#background witney

Nina knew she was a people pleaser. Always had been, always would be. She was simply too nice to say no to anyone. She had never been one to say no to anything.

She’d never taken the last remaining teabag for herself way back at uni; she’d always elected to leave it for Brooke or Yvie, knowing that Brooke would be grumpy all day if she didn’t have her morning cup of tea and not wanting to deal with the caffeine crash Yvie would experience if she made coffee as a substitute.

It had even started way further back in her life than her twenties. The most rebellious thing she’d ever done in high school was to pull out one of the cables of her German teacher’s computer at the back so she’d spend the whole lesson fixing it instead of teaching their class. In Primary, she was the stereotypical, insufferable goody-two-shoes: didn’t ever lose a minute of Golden Time, finished both her set tasks and the extension work that accompanied them perfectly, and was the worst kind of tell-tale.

(At the time, she thought her teachers loved that- the fact that she acted as their five-year-old corporate spy, ready to report any wrongdoings to headquarters. Contrarily, now that she was a teacher to five year olds, Nina thought that if she heard one more story about who skipped who in the line she would climb very slowly and very carefully into the staffroom microwave and blow herself into fifty million partially-heated bits.)

So when her headteacher ducked her head into her classroom on a cold, wet, rainy Wednesday after all the kids had been dispatched home, Nina panicked. Her eyes darted up to the displays on her walls. Fuck, there were still Halloween pumpkins blu-tacked up there. There was, so far, nothing on her December learning journey wall. And there were still Very Hungry Caterpillars made from bottle tops pushed into dollops of paint stuck to bright green backing paper which had been there since the kids’ first week at school back in August.

Well. Red and green were Christmassy colours. Right?

But Mrs Del Rio didn’t seem all that interested in the state of her wall displays. She’d come to ask Nina if she could film a Nativity play with her class.

“It’s for the parents really,” Bianca had rolled her eyes, folding her arms in her usual no-nonsense way. “Just something they can watch and share with the families since we can’t do a real Nativity. It doesn’t need to be anything big- just a few songs…one, two…say four. And then just have the kids in their costumes with a couple of lines. With a backdrop, y’know, there doesn’t need to be props. Just the baby Jesus…the gifts for the three Kings….maybe a couple of no vacancy signs for the innkeepers…that sort of thing. Just for before we finish up term. Maybe if it could be done by next Friday. That okay?”

And Nina, because she was a people pleaser, had nodded and said yes! and of course! and Bianca had nodded curtly at her in the frostiest thank-you the world had ever seen before leaving.

It had only taken the time in which Bianca’s heels had slowly disappeared from hearing distance for the reality of the situation to sink in for Nina. She’d just agreed to do a whole Nativity play, with songs, and costumes, and props, in the space of eight days.

She was going to be sick like little Jack had done that day he’d come into class and projectile-vomited halfway onto the carpet and halfway into Nina’s outstretched hands.

Nina was so consumed by the all-encompassing panic that she didn’t even flinch when there was a loud, jaunty knock at her classroom door.

“High Court Enforcement,” came a loud, brash voice, Nina finally turning to see who was there with glazed eyes. Willam leant against the doorframe, her messy blonde waves falling over the shoulders of her dark blue jumper like curly vines. She was the only teacher who could match the sass levels of the Year 6s and was a colleague that Nina both loved and feared. Loved because she was straight-talking and blunt and altogether hilarious, but feared because her girlfriend was the deputy head of the school and anything Nina said to her would definitely be reported back as gossip.

Also because she was, for all intents and purposes, a pint-pot riot.

“Nina. Nina. Nina,” Willam said repeatedly, her voice monotone and her persistence irritating. Nina mumbled something out.

“What?”

Nina raked her hands through her shock of frizzy blonde curls and sighed, her stress levels already rising. “I said I’m a lesbian having a panic attack.”

“Oh, that’s a mood. I was sent round to do the collection for the support staff but I’ve already spent forty minutes chatting to Alyssa instead of doing what I was asked. Got a grand total of a fiver so far,” Willam shrugged blithely, coming into Nina’s classroom and perching on one of the tiny munchkin-sized tables. “What’s up?”

The pressure-cooker that her mind was rapidly becoming told Nina to throw caution to the wind and vent, so she told Willam everything in a series of babbles barely comprehensible in the English language.

“So you’ve just agreed to doing a full Nativity video in the space of a week?” Willam cocked her head, pulling a confused face. “Why didn’t you just tell Bianca to fuck off?”

Nina paused, feeling all her panic momentarily leave her body as she fixed Willam with a glare. “Are you expecting me to answer that?”

“No, no. Shit, wouldn’t it have been amazing if you had, though? What d’you think would’ve happened? Maybe she’d’ve shouted so loud at you her lungs would’ve just exploded.”

Nina couldn’t help but blurt out a small laugh. “That’s way too dramatic. She wouldn’t even fire me on the spot because that would mean management having to go in and cover my class tomorrow while they tried to find my replacement.”

Nina regretted the small barb at their management team as soon as it was out, but Willam seemed nonplussed.

“Yeah. Court’s way too impatient to deal with your lil’ rugrats.”

“I’m too impatient to deal with them. I’m too impatient to deal with them on a day to day basis. How I’m going to teach them four Christmas songs in the space of a week, fuck knows.”

Willam cocked her head again, her smile becoming patient. “Well if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Willam’s words were a small source of comfort to Nina. Suddenly everything seemed doable. She matched her colleague’s smile, glad she’d arrived in that moment. “Thanks, Willam.”

As soon as her words were out, she saw the small, playful twinkle in Willam’s eye. “Because nobody else would’ve been mad enough to agree to the damn thing.”

***

Getting her class sorted and organised for the day couldn’t really be likened to herding cats. No, this process was far more chaotic than that. At half past nine each day what could only be described as a minor tsunami of children hit Nina’s classroom: throwing their jackets into the designated tubs with wild abandon and subsequently knocking anything and everything off her adjacent desk, unloading every possible snack in their lunchboxes into their trays and Nina’s pleas for them to only take one snack out falling on deaf ears, spilling their water bottles and getting the zips on their jackets stuck and wanting to tell Nina a billion and one things that seemed to have happened in the 18 hours they had spent outwith her care.

During the month of December this chaos only intensified. Hats, scarves and gloves littered the classroom floor as they fell off the kids like baubles off a dead Christmas tree, shrieks filled the air as they discovered a new chocolate in the advent calendar, and at least half the class surrounded Nina like festive zombies as they all battled to win the competition of “Who can tell Miss West about what their elf on the shelf had got up to overnight the loudest”.  

Nina hammered the little bell she kept on her desk with the palm of her hand, stress levels already rising. “Okay, Reception! Jackets in tubs, snacks in trays and bums on carpet!”

As her class giggled about their teacher’s use of the word “bum”, Nina sat down in her wheely chair and waited for them all to join her on the little strip of carpet in front of her smartboard. It was moments like these where she’d be hit with a sort of out of body experience; she was someone’s teacher, she was this class’ first teacher. She was sitting in front of her class waiting to take the register and start their day. It was slightly overwhelming, even though she’d been doing the job for a number of years now.

Eventually her kids were all organised and she’d taken the register and made sure they all had a lunch to eat that day. Nina made sure to put on her best excited face as she prepared to tell them about the Nativity.

“Right, Reception!” she said, injecting lots of mystery into her voice like a storyteller. “I have got some very exciting news for you all today!”

Their little faces all grew equally excited as they were expectant, and Nina’s heart almost popped. Just then, Harry, a boy with enough gel in his hair to single-handedly keep Brylcreem in business for a year and huge bottle-top glasses’ hand went up.

“Yes, Harry?”

The boy bounced on the carpet, incredibly eager. “Can I tell you what my elf did last night?”

Ten more hands immediately shot up, and Nina’s heart sank. Great.

But she was still teaching four and five year olds and this was truly the most important thing in their little lives, so she fixed a bright smile on her face and tilted her head inquisitively. “What did your elf do?”

Harry was now sitting on his knees, towering over the other children and threatening to knock himself over with every passing second as he swayed in the nonexistent breeze. “He did a poop in my Dad’s shoes!”

The rest of the class shrieked with laughter in response. Internally, Nina was rapidly reaching her wit’s end. Love it. A bit of toilet humour to start off the Nativity rehearsals. Great. Exactly what’s needed. “Oh my goodness! What a cheeky elf!”

“He did three poops! And you know what else? They were cola jellybeans! I ate them!”

Sophie, a girl with long ginger hair in a low ponytail and a gap in her smile where two baby teeth once lived, gasped in horror. “You ate the elf’s poop?!”

The rest of the class fell about laughing. Nina had to get control back of the situation.

“Well thank you very much for sharing, Harry! Okay everyone, let’s pop our hands down.”

There were still ten hands waving proudly in the air like rebellious flags.

“We can do more elf stories at the end of the day if there’s time!” Nina lied. There would not be time. There was never time. But it placated most of her class enough for them to follow the instruction. There was, however, one remaining hand up which belonged to Jason, a boy with hair so platinum blonde it seemed otherworldly.

“It’s not an elf story! I’ve got a question,” he insisted, shouting out despite the fact his hand was already up. Nina relented, just in case he did have something important to ask. Maybe he was about to pee himself. Highly likely with the Reception kids.

Jason, pleased as punch that Nina was allowing him to speak, put his hand down. “Can I tell you a rhyming word I’ve just thought of?”

Nina’s smile grew all the more gritted, and the muscles in her face all the more tense. This was going to be the longest week she had experienced in living memory.

***

Nina would never get tired of living with Monet. The sound of her singing as the shower provided a backing track, the unholy racket she seemed to make when she cooked (a symphony of swearing, the banging of kitchen utensils, and the clattering of saucepans and baking trays). The smell of the Dior Sauvage she used instead of perfume and the Cantu hair custard she combed through her hair after she washed it. The fact that Nina could get a cuddle from her any time she wanted and the soft squash of her arms around her.

But living with Monet was best at Christmastime. The endless arguments they got into about their Christmas decorations and what looked best where, both stemming from a fierce loyalty to their own family traditions. The way they’d write their Christmas cards to their friends with a Christmas film playing in the background, and the way Monet would tease her about having such picture-perfect, font-like, primary-teacher handwriting. The way Monet would get too excited in the supermarket and load party food into Nina’s shopping basket like a child trying to sneak chocolate.

Even though Nina was completely exhausted, she still felt herself smile as she turned her key in the lock and heard her girlfriend loudly singing along with Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree, paired with the blast of the extractor fan.

“Hello?” Nina sing-songed as she closed the door shut, shedding her heavy jacket and her scuffed trainers and her backpack full of jotters that had been haphazardly stuffed in as she left work.

“Hello!” Monet chirped back, in what had become their tradition since moving in together all those years ago. “Your timing’s perfect, I just finished dinner.”

“Ooh. What is for dinner?”

Monet gestured to the pile of grated cheese, pan of bubbling baked beans, and loaf of white bread. “Beans on toast.”

Nina snorted and leaned against the counter. “Wow, don’t I have the most perfect domestic housewife! That must’ve taken, what…two hours?”

Monet reached over and squeezed her side, eliciting a yelp that would probably give their downstairs neighbours the wrong idea. “Shady bitch. It’s this or two rice cakes that’ve been in the cupboard for so long I swear they’re turning fossilised.”

“No, I’m kidding. Of course I’m hungry, thanks hun. I’ll make dinner tomorrow,” Nina promised, sliding into one of their second-hand wooden dining chairs as Monet plated up.

“No you won’t,” Monet frowned. “You look dead. What’re your kids doing to you, beating you with their tiny little chairs?”

“The fucking Nativity,” Nina sighed, pausing to thank Monet as she placed two slices of golden toast covered with beans and flakes of grated cheese down in front of her. Admittedly it did look like absolute heaven.

“Have you told Bianca to piss off yet?” Monet scowled, stabbing her toast so hard she threatened to break the plate in two.

“What kind of fantasy-land school do you work at where you can tell your headteacher to piss off and she actually listens?” Nina cocked an eyebrow at her, and Monet shrugged in agreement as she chewed a mouthful. “No, of course not. I’m going to make it happen, though, even if it kills me. We started learning the songs today, which you would think was a simple enough endeavour. Except my class, who usually can’t shut up if their lives depend on it, have all the singing volume and skill of one of Yvie and Scarlet’s cat’s chew toys. They don’t even sound like cats being strangled, that’d probably be louder. It’s like trying to have a sing-song with a room full of laryngitis patients. Except it’s not a room, because apparently we’re not allowed to sing inside because of covid. But I can teach Phonics and the kids can all make the ‘p’ sound at me until their hearts’ content and shower me with their spit like the world’s shittiest production of Singin’ In The Rain? Anyway, we have to rehearse outside. In December. I think my feet actually fell off.”

As Nina finally finished what had unintentionally become a fully-fledged rant, Monet attempted to compose herself as she wiped away a small tear of laughter from her eye and clutched at her belly. Nina watched as her girlfriend took a few deep breaths, then fixed her with a humoured grin. “But apart from all that, how was your day?”

Nina stuck her tongue out at her in response. “Shut up. How was yours?”

Monet rolled her eyes as she speared a bean. “Awful. Tried to assess time with my class today. God I love them, Neens, but they’re so bad, how can they be that bad?”

“If anyone can help them progress, it’s you,” Nina smiled encouragingly, only getting a shaken head in reply.

“No, I can’t. Nobody can. They’re beyond help. Some of the answers I got today wouldn’t even be believable if they were part of some TV comedy show. What month is Christmas in? ‘Santa’. The kid answered Santa. How many months are there in a year? ‘Sixty six’. How many days are there in a week? ‘Two’. TWO!” Monet cried, outraged. Nina couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat, and Monet pointed warningly at her in response. “Don’t you dare laugh. This is my reality.”

“Hey, you laughed at my Nativity nightmare!” Nina giggled, to which Monet chuckled guiltily. Nina paused to swipe a bit of toast around the plate with her fork, mopping up any stray tomato sauce. When she looked up from her plate, she saw Monet tapping at her phone. Nina frowned disapprovingly. “Hey. No phones at the table.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Monet apologised quickly, though didn’t put her phone down yet. “Monique’s just sent me a screenshot of her friend that’s getting engaged. Look at the damn size of this ring.”

Monet turned her phone to show Nina. Pictured was a diamond the size of a small Pacific nation and a band encrusted with tiny gems on the finger of somebody she’d never met. Nina couldn’t help the way she screwed her face up, which made Monet blurt a laugh in response. “Not a fan, then?”

Nina pulled a face in thought. She was sure that kind of ring made some girls happy, but to her it just seemed tacky and over-the-top, not to mention heavy. “I’m sure she likes it, but I wouldn’t want something that huge. Imagine working in a Reception class with that?! Play-dough stuck in all the little crevices. And Jesus, what if you lost it? Nah, it would stress me out owning that. I would just want one simple little gold band and one singular tiny diamond. Much less of a burden.”

Monet snorted a laugh as she finished her last mouthful of dinner. “You are the only girl I’ve ever met that would consider an engagement ring a burden. Christ on a crucifix.”

“Well!” Nina protested, before realising she didn’t really have anything else to defend herself with. Then, she narrowed her eyes at her girlfriend playfully, kicking her under the table. “Why’re you so interested in my engagement ring opinions, anyway? You asking?”

Monet chuckled as she put her phone face-down on the table. “Bold of you to assume I can afford council tax, never mind a diamond.”

Nina smiled, shrugging in agreement. “Yeah, fair. What should we do tonight? I have Maths jotters to mark but then that’s me done.”

Monet tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “I would say fucking our shit days out but I don’t even have the energy to operate a vibrator.”

Nina almost choked on her food as she laughed. “Christ, that’s a mood. Finish dinner, pyjamas, rewatch The Office for the ninety billionth time then bed at 7pm?”

“Sounds good, babe,” Monet smiled, lifting her glass of water up to cheers with as if it was sparkling wine.

***

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way! Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh, HEY! Jingle bells, Jin-”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah,” Nina cut in, waving her hands frantically and stopping the twenty-three five and four year olds that had previously been singing their little kidney bean-sized lungs out. “What are the words?”

Her class stared back at her as if she’d just asked her what twenty-eight times thirteen was. Although Jeremiah, who was already working at Year 5 level, could probably have worked that out given enough time.

“Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh,” Nina said, rhythmically and clearly. “You try.”

The children all parroted it back to her in their little voices, word-perfect. Thank God, thought Nina. Jingle Bells seemed to be the only song they recognised, so if they turned out to not know it after all then Nina would very probably need an inhaler despite the fact she wasn’t at all asthmatic.

“Let’s try it with the music!” Nina said cheerfully, making sure the bluetooth speaker she’d brought outside was still on.

“Miss West,” a small voice piped up belonging to Amber, the human embodiment of a whine. “I’m cold!”

“We’ll get inside soon!” Nina replied patiently. “Just let’s practise it one more time!”

“I’m cold too,” piped up Joshua, Amber’s male counterpart.

“I’m freezing,” Amber offered again.

“I know, it’s very cold outside!” Nina smiled sympathetically, even though her teeth were gritted. “But we can’t do our singing inside because of the virus!”

“Why not?” Amber pouted.

Nina didn’t really know. The answer was because of the care inspectorate guidelines, but that was incredibly far beyond the realms of a five-year-old’s comprehension. Just then, an idea struck her.

“Well we need to sing our songs outside so that Santa can hear them when he’s taking his sleigh out for a test drive!” she said animatedly. The wide eyes and ohhhh-s she received in reply made her feel like a genius. Move over, Steven Hawking. “Okay, one more time with Jingle Bells. Nice and loud for Santa!”

“Miss West?”

Nina blinked slowly and heavily, taking a small breath before answering the newest child that demanded her attention. “Yes, Sophie?”

“I’m cold.”

“I’m cold!! We’re all cold!!” Nina replied quickly, just that shade away from snapping so that her class knew she meant business. “We’re doing the song one more time and then we’re going inside! So nice big smiles, nice loud voices, and here…we…go!”

Nina pressed play on the song before any more children could regale her with tales of how their body temperatures had dropped to that of a snowman’s.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way!” they all enthusiastically sang. “Oh McFun it is to ride in a waffle sofen sleigh!”

Nina rubbed so hard at her tired eyes that she thought they might disappear into her skull. She was momentarily glad of the fact that she didn’t have a teaching assistant to help her, as to have any other adult witness this would be embarrassing in the extreme.

Just then she noticed around five parents queued up at the nursery adjacent to the playground, watching with wry smiles on their faces as they waited for their children.

“One more time!” Nina cried, as she stopped the music with freezing cold hands.

***

“So Nina, when you gonna wife your girlfriend?”

Nina very nearly spat out her tea, a horrifying milky brown hurricane only just avoided. She hadn’t been expecting to answer deep, meaningful life questions in the staffroom during a lunch hour, but Willam was the human incarnation of petrol on a campfire and with her around things were always in danger of going from zero to a hundred very quickly. To Nina’s relief Courtney was also in the staffroom, and she whipped around from the countertop and gave her girlfriend daggers.

“Willam!” Courtney chastised her in a hiss that Nina wasn’t quite sure was meant to be audible. Willam only gave her an incredulous glare, affronted that she seemed to be the voice of reason in the conversational chaos.

“What?! Just askin’. I mean you’re what…twenty-nine? Twenty eight?”

“Twenty-six,” Nina replied. She was now at the age where being assumed she was older than she was was a curse, not a blessing. (If she’d told seventeen-year-old Nina that one day she would be disappointed at no longer being ID’d for wine at Sainsburys she’d have laughed in her face.)

“Exactly. That’s wifeing age. Mid to late twenties.”

“Hey, I passed that stage long ago, where the hell’s my ring?“ Courtney asked Willam, stirring the coffee she’d poured into one of the many, many “World’s Best Teacher!” mugs that littered the staffroom cupboards. Willam responded by turning around in her chair and positioning her pencil skirt-clad ass in the air.

“Right here, bitch!”

“Christ Almighty,” Courtney turned away from her, rolling her eyes so hard they looked like little spheric dice. As Willam gave her best impression of a seal on laughing gas, Nina cast her eyes over to Sasha who was sitting at the other end of the staffroom. As they caught each others’ eyes they shared a long-suffering smile that mourned the death of peace and quiet.

Nina was glad the conversation had been diverted from the subject of her perceived lack of marriage plans. Until Sasha opened her mouth, that is.

“I wouldn’t worry, Nina. Me and Shea haven’t had that conversation either. I mean we’d both love to, but there’s more important stuff for us right now, you know? We’re saving for a house and I think we’d rather live in a place we’ve chosen for the foreseeable future than just having one singular big lavish day.”

“It’s all about what you want to do with the person you love the most, isn’t it? Not just doing what society wants you to do,” Courtney chipped in, her voice warm and kind. “Like me and Willam used to be total party girls before we got our shit together. And now, like…there’s nothing I’d rather do of a weekend than curl up with her on the sofa and get all cosy with a film and a blanket and a cup of tea.”

Willam scoffed affectionately. “That’s your ideal weekend plan? What are you, forty?”

“Yes? As are you?” Courtney replied incredulously. Nina heard Sasha snort in her chair. As she turned her gaze back to the other two girls she realised that Willam was still looking at her expectantly. Nina sank back into her seat, a little reserved.

“It’s not really something we’ve spoken about? Well…no, we have spoken about it, obviously,” she babbled, watching as Willam took on the look of someone witnessing a victim of cardiac arrest. “Like we both want to get married. To each other, of course. But teaching is just such a busy job all the time and…you know, we only bought our flat last Summer and…I don’t know, it’s nice not to have everything happen all at once, right?”

Courtney nodded emphatically in agreement. “Of course! And I mean, if she asked, you’d say yes, right?”

Nina had to stop herself from pulling a face. How am I having this conversation with my boss? “Well, yeah. God, I couldn’t imagine life without her at all.”

Willam pretended to gag, which Nina thought was pretty rich from the woman who had begun the entire conversation. Courtney seemed to pick up on her girlfriend’s distaste.

“I don’t think Willam has ever said anything that cute about me!”

Willam turned around to look at her girlfriend, disbelief on her face. “Yeah, I only left my damn husband for you. Fuck me, right?”

Nina’s eyes widened as Sasha gave a yelp from across the staffroom. That was a small piece of workplace gossip she hadn’t expected to learn today. As Courtney’s face turned red and she shot Willam a warning glare, she turned to Nina once more.

“Nina, how’s the Nativity going?” Courtney beamed artificially at her, moving the conversation along with all the grace and decorum of a one-wheeled snow plow.

Considering the question, Nina thought that she’d rather be discussing marriage plans with her boss and colleagues again. “It’s going.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement. I’m sure that was on the poster of Titanic too,” Willam chipped in.

“It wouldn’t be any less disastrous than the actual fate of the Titanic, at least the passengers could’ve probably remembered the words to fucking Jingle Bells,” Nina deadpanned, causing Willam to break into fits of clubbed seal laughter.

Sasha pouted sympathetically from the other side of the room. “It’s those cute bits that the parents love, though, isn’t it? They won’t mind if they get the words wrong.”

“I’m sure there needs to be a foundation of at least an audible tune though, Sash,” Nina smiled resignedly back at her.

“If Bianca wants a Nativity so bad, just tell her to come teach your class,” Willam half-suggested, half-yelled. “Or get Court to teach them! They prolly don’t need to be in tune anyway!”

Courtney’s expression appeared to be the same as Nina’s after her morning’s rehearsal. “Do you ever stop talking shit?”

“You think I’m bad? That bell is going to go for the Comp’s lunch break in five minutes, Bob is gonna arrive, an’ then it’s RIP our eardrums,” Willam said, pointing to the staffroom door for dramatic effect.

“At least Bob has never presented his clothed arsehole to his partner in front of his colleagues,” Courtney cut in at once, her tone deadpan and making Nina splutter a laugh.

“Aw, c’mon Court! That’s just banter. These girls don’t mind.”

“It’s unprofessional!” Courtney clutched her chest. Willam only snorted in response.

“Unprofessional? What are you, forty?”

“We’re the same age!!” Courtney cried in response, her incredulous tone only setting Nina off in a further fit of laughter.

It was only later on that night once she had driven back home, parked, and approached her and Monet’s flat that Nina remembered the staffroom conversation. She cast her gaze up to their first-floor window in their red brick building, almost being able to feel the way her heart gave a swell at the sight of their Christmas tree framed proudly within the glass. And as she got in through the front door, Monet greeted her with a hug and a takeaway leaflet.

“We’ve got nothing in the fridge, so I thought we could get noodles? This came through the door today and I think-” Monet raises her eyebrows, slapped the leaflet into the palm of her hand decisively. “- it’s a sign from God.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Nina laughed, shrugging off her coat and feeling grateful for not having to cook.

It was only when they were both curled up on the couch, empty pad thai containers in front of them, that Nina turned to Monet and saw the lights on the tree reflected in her eyes. She turned to her girlfriend, threw an arm round her and snuggled in to her side.

“What’s up?” Monet asked, her voice soft and sleepy and a little concerned.

“Nothing,” Nina sighed. It was true. There wasn’t really anything up, and she was the happiest she’d ever been. But she still turned to Monet, tilting her head up inquisitively. “You don’t feel under any pressure at all, do you?”

Monet snorted. “I feel under pressure to get fifteen children who can’t write the word cat on their own to magically be able to write a sentence by the end of the year, yeah.”

Nina rolled her eyes. “No! I mean, like…in life. You didn’t just…buy this flat with me because you felt you had to, right? You wouldn’t do anything because you felt obliged to?”

Monet raised a single eyebrow back at her. “Yeah, I decided to piss my life savings away on a deposit for a flat because I felt I had to. Jesus Christ, Neens.”

“No, no, I know,” Nina chuckled, realising how silly the whole thing now sounded. “But I just mean…in life, like milestones and stuff. You’d never do stuff because you felt you had to keep up, in some way? Reach some goal by a certain age?”

Monet brought an arm around Nina and cuddled her closer, kissing her hair and resting her chin on top of her head. “Everything I do in life, I do because I want to. Especially when it comes to you. Promise.”

Nina gave her girlfriend a squeeze, happy. She took a deep breath, smelt the fabric softener on Monet’s jumper that they both used but just seemed to smell better and feel softer on everything Monet wore.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

***

Nina sat in a child-sized chair with her knees practically up to her chest, a crumpled, printed-out script on her lap that she’d hastily typed up on her work iPad’s notes app the following evening. Her class sat behind her in costumes pulled on over their school uniforms, with books and pens and pieces of paper with botched photocopying on the back under strict instructions not to talk until the whole thing was filmed.

“Okay, Amber!” she smiled breezily at the small girl whose school blouse was sticking out under her angel costume. “You’re kicking off the video. So your line is two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Practise it for me?”

Amber gripped the hem of her taffeta skirt in two tiny white-knucked fists. “I don’t want to.”

Nina bit her lip. Great start. Fantastic. “We can give it a try together?”

Reluctantly, Amber parroted the words in tandem with her. So far so good.

“Okay. Now do you want to go up against the backdrop and I can film you doing it?”

Amber’s ponytail full of flyaways swung wildly as she shook her head. Nina thought for a moment. Then her eyes came to rest on Hazel- the class’ Mary and, coincidentally, Amber’s best friend.

“What about if Hazel stands with you?”

That seemed to change things and, only slightly hesitantly, both girls got up in front of the hastily staple-gunned silver tinsel.

“Okay Amber. Two thousand years ago, an angel came to a woman called Mary. Ready?”

A nod in reply.

“Go!”

Amber took a deep, shaky breath in. “Two thousand years ago….a woman called Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed the girl with a kind smile. “An angel came to a woman called Mary. Try again?”

The iPad was back in filming mode, and Amber went again. “Two thousand years ago, a…a…a little cute angel came to Mary.”

Nina stopped filming, fixed Amber with two thumbs up. That’ll do.

Things seemed to be going well as Hazel and Oliver (or, Mary and Angel Gabriel) got through their lines without too many bumps in the road. Then, it was time for Amber to take to the stage (or blue curtain with a tinsel border) once more.

“Okay Amber, so your line this time is…Mary told her husband Joseph. Want to practise?”

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Amber repeated, with all the enthusiasm of a patient about to undergo a colonoscopy. With two days til the deadline, this would have to suffice.

“Perfect! Ready? Three…two…one…go!” Nina smiled encouragingly, as she hit record.

Amber stood beside Mary and Joseph, a little grin on her own face. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

“…Joseph,” Nina reminded her. Where the fuck had Joyce come from? She hit record again.

“Three…two…one…go!”

“Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Nina couldn’t stop herself from bursting out laughing. “Joseph, Amber!”

The little girl nodded earnestly. “Joseph Amber.”

Nina spluttered. “No…Amber is your name. Joseph is Mary’s husband.”

“Ohhhhhh.”

Nina shook her head, amused. This was what she loved about teaching. None of the other girls working from home could say that they got to spend their day feeling like they were stuck in an episode of You’ve Been Framed.

“Go again. Mary told her husband Joseph. Three…two…one…”

“Mary told…em…um…I can’t remember,” Amber giggled. Nina could feel her own giggles bubbling up inside herself, but she had to stop otherwise it would set her whole class off.

“Mary told her husband Joseph,” Nina repeated, both Amber and Hazel now giggling to each other. “Shh shh! Okay…three…two…one…”

Amber composed herself, took a deep breath. “Mary told her husband Joyce.”

Christ Alive. Nina gasped incredulously, unable to help herself from laughing now. The whole class, Amber herself, and Nina was pretty sure God, were all doing the same. She put her head in her hands, her whole body now shaking with laughter. “Joseph!!”

She already couldn’t wait to tell everybody she knew this story. Not least so she could cement in her mind that it was something that actually happened to her, and not just simply the script of a comedy show she’d dreamed up. Miraculously, mercifully, she managed to get the rest of her class settled down and for Amber to say the correct line on film, even if Nina could be faintly heard frantically mouthing “Joseph!” in the background.

Eventually they reached the innkeepers. Easy enough, in theory.

“Okay, Carter,” Nina smiled encouragingly at the first innkeeper. “When Mary and Joseph ask for a room, you say ‘no, sorry!’. Okay?”

Carter nodded, half a finger stuck up his nose. Nina gestured to him to put his hands down, then began filming. As directed, Mary and Joseph asked if there was any room at the inn.

“YES,” the little boy shouted. The whole class burst out laughing. Nina did not.

Just then, Willam walked past the open door with her class. She gave her a look of inquisition, shooting her a tentative, questioning thumbs up.

Nina put her head in her hands in reply.

***

By some miracle of nature (although it could also have been Nina giving up on work that afternoon) Nina had made it back to the flat before five o’clock. This never happened- five pm was usually the time she left work, but a day full of recording Nativity clips and then putting them together on iMovie while her class played (read; caused havoc) had been tiring and she needed Monet, chocolate, and Merlot.

Only the first thing she heard when she opened the door to her flat wasn’t Monet singing, or the hum of the extractor fan. It was the grainy crackle of a Zoom call and an incredibly distinctive voice.

“So when you doin’ it? Do it tonight. Do it when she gets home from work.”

Monet’s voice- humoured, long-suffering. “I’m not doing it then, Vanj, she’ll be exhausted.”

“That was honestly your best suggestion? When she gets home from work?” Brooke’s voice. “Aren’t you the pinnacle of romance!”

Nina had realised that Monet was on a Zoom call with all the girls, from the way Vanessa had obviously kissed Brooke on camera was being met with half a dozen cries in protest from the others. She excitedly shrugged off her coat and unwrapped herself from her scarf, eager to see her friends again. Part of her was intrigued, though. Why were they all calling each other without her?

“My question is how you’re going to do it,” Akeria’s voice came, as questioning as always. “It needs to be good but it better not be too damn cheesy.”

“An’ you better make sure she got her nails done, she might say no if she ain’t got her nails done!” Silky came shouting through Monet’s Macbook speakers.

“Yeah, you better make it as romantic as you can, Mo,” Scarlet added, making Nina wonder what the hell it was they were all talking about. Before she could wonder any further, she heard Yvie’s distinctive snort of a laugh.

“You are in no position to speak about romance, I mean, need I remind you how you asked me?”

“Shut up,” Scarlet replied, her tone a little bashful as the other girls laughed.

“Monet I could hire you a plane if you really wanted,” Plastique offered, making Nina snort despite the fact she had no idea what the conversation was about.

“Shut up, bitch,” Nina could practically hear the roll of Akeria’s eyes.

Nina toed her shoes off and finally padded through to the kitchen, where Monet’s eyes grew wide when she saw her, her body visibly flinching.

“Hey, babe!” she smiled, looking a little startled. “You’re home earlier than usual!”

“Oh sorry, am I interrupting your Zoom call with all your side chicks?” Nina deadpanned, forcing her way onto Monet’s lap to see her friends on the screen.

“Ninaaa!!!” Vanessa’s face popped up first, her friend waving excitedly as she sat on her sofa in Brooke’s arms. “How are you, girl?”

“Shattered,” Nina sighed, rubbing her eyes harshly. “Just filmed the whole Nativity with the rugrats today. Think it took ten years off my lifespan. How’re you?”

“Good,” Brooke smiled back through the screen. “We ordered our Christmas food today. Trying to convince this one that we don’t need twelve pigs in blankets between two people.”

Vanessa scowled back at her from their position on the sofa. “Uh, yes the hell we do!”

“Twelve pigs in blankets as well as the turkey, stuffing, and all the veg? Y’all are gonna explode,” Akeria said disapprovingly.

“Kiki! How are you?” Nina cried with delight, seeing her friend’s tired but smiling face appear on screen.

“Good. Don’t stop work for a while yet, but it’s fine. Still flat hunting.”

“How’s Pri?” Nina asked, heartened by the way Akeria looked down, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“Yeah, she’s good. Still batshit crazy. Horny all the time.”

“The ideal girlfriend, really,” Yvie said, a wry smile on her face.

“Nina!” Silky suddenly cut in, yelling. “Did you hear any of what we were talkin’ about before?”

Nina frowned, shook her head. “Something about planes and nails. And cheese. I’m too exhausted to have paid enough attention. Why, were you having a mad bitchfest about me?”

“Trying to ask the girls how best to dump you,” Monet deadpanned. Nina shot Monet a look and squeezed her leg, resulting in her girlfriend yelping and cracking her knee off the table.

Whatever the previous conversation was was soon forgotten about as excited catchups took over. Silky was excited as she was interviewing some singer that Nina had never heard of and wanted the girls to help her work out what questions she was going to ask her. Yvie and Scarlet were lamenting the fact they had to host both of their families for Christmas and had bought a turkey so big Scarlet wasn’t sure it would fit in their oven, and Plastique was telling them the weirdest things she’d been gifted by companies desperate for her to endorse them on Instagram.

“I got a box of sex toys from LoveHoney. That was probably the most random. Me and Naomi had a wild fucking night that night.”

“STOP BEIN’ GROSS,” Silky had yelled down the line, causing Nina to hammer Monet’s volume down button.

Eventually the call came to an end, but not before lots of promises to catch up soon once the situation across the world was better than the shitshow it was currently. As Monet closed her laptop, Nina threw her arms around her neck and nuzzled into her side.

“I miss them,” she sighed, and Monet patter her back comfortingly.

“I know, babe. I miss them too.”

There was a moment of pensive silence, and then Nina spoke again, the Nativity never too far away from her mind.

“I can’t export this video.”

“What?”

“The Nativity video. I can’t export it,” Nina muttered pitifully against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Monet kissed her hair, making to stand up. “You get a cup of tea. I’ll fix your video.”

“You’re the best,” Nina sighed gratefully, walking over to the kettle.

It was only after she’d sat down with a cup of tea and Monet had promised she’d sorted her video that Nina thought about the conversation she’d walked in on earlier.

She had a strange feeling that it had something to do with her.

***

When Nina arrived at work that morning, she could tell something was…a little different. She couldn’t really tell what it was. It started with the slightly knowing smile Tatianna shot her from across the corridor.

“Congrats, Nina!” she shouted down to her before she ducked into her own classroom.  

“Uh…thanks,” she replied a little too late. Okay, the Nativity process had been stressful, but did she really need congratulated?

She supposed she appreciated it. It had been a whirlwind of a process, after all.

Only the odd thing was, it continued. The congratulations came pouring in; Alaska, Ivy from the Nursery school, Alyssa had cooed and gushed for ages about how exciting it was and how happy she was for her.

Nina had only blinked in reply, a little bewildered. “Thanks, Alyssa. It was a stress, but they managed to pull it off in the end.”

Alyssa gave her a funny look, then realisation seemed to dawn on her. “Oh…they’re non-binary! You know I never knew that, sorry sugar. Well congratulations to you both.”

With that, Alyssa hurried away only leaving Nina more confused than ever.

What in the fuck?

When the bell rang and Nina went to collect her class from the line, things only got weirder. Before she could hurry her class inside, Harry’s Mum waved at her from behind the school gate, beckoning her over. Nina’s heart began to sink- she was going to ask her why Harry was only a shepherd, wasn’t she, or why he didn’t get a solo during Little Donkey, or some-other-bullshit-like-that.

To Nina’s surprise, she held up a sparkly gift bag.

“Hi, sorry for bothering you!” she beamed at her. This was already unheard of- a parent apologising for taking up her time? Nina was beginning to question if she had slipped through a crack in the fabric of reality while she’d been sleeping when Harry’s Mum spoke again. “Me and the other parents had a quick whipround and got you a couple of things and a little card to say congratulations! We thought it was the least we could do given your lovely news.”

It was only after Nina had thanked her profusely, taken the bag and led her children into class that her words sank in. What lovely news was she on about?

Nina taught that morning in a daze. Well, ‘taught’ was pushing it; the last few days of term were always movie days or games days, and today was the former. Nina had decided to inject a bit of an educational element to it by showing her class Nativity and then asking them if they thought the film’s play was better than the one they’d put on. Despite it being one of her favourite Christmas films, though, she still wondered why everyone had been congratulating her today. Maybe her Nativity video had really been so amazingly good that people just had to comment on it. Nina decided that this was the only plausible explanation, and so was feeling particularly spirited as it reached breaktime and she sent the kids out to play.

She was sitting in her classroom reading all the messages she’d missed on her group chat when Willam practically crashed through her door.

“Oh my God!” she yelled, practically vibrating with excitement. “Congratulations, you lucky fucker! That’s gotta be the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I mean Bianca probably wants your head on a plate for keeping it in, but still! How’re you celebrating? Should we go to the shop at lunchtime and get prosecco? I mean it’s the last few days of term, I’m sure drinking on the job’s allowed. Court wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Willam was talking with such speed that it took a few seconds for Nina to register everything she’d said. “Why…would Bianca want my head on a plate?”

Willam snorted. “I mean it’s kinda obvious. You don’t think she’s gonna be pissed about it? Then again, maybe she won’t. I don’t know, I can’t get inside her head. I’m not on that Honey I Shrunk The Kids kinda bullshit.”

Nina felt her head was so clouded that even if she possessed the brightest fog lights in the world she still couldn’t see what Willam was trying to say.

“Willam,” she asked, slowly and carefully as she rested her head in her hands. “What the hell are you talking about?”

There was a pause as Willam froze, then as her eyes became huge and wide as she slowly raised a finger to point at Nina. “Jesus Harvey Christ. You…you don’t know, do you?”

Nina frowned, bewildered. “Know what?”

“Oh my God. You don’t know. This is the best thing ever. You don’t even know!” Willam howled with laughter, then, before Nina could ask what she was meant to not know, Willam had dashed out of her classroom and had begun yelling into the hall. “Courtney! Court! She doesn’t know!”

Nina began to feel her heart beat in heavy thuds as the bell went to signal the end of playtime. What didn’t she know?

Eventually Nina managed to reach the end of the day. How, she didn’t know. She was so confused by all the different odd events of the day that she felt she didn’t properly make sense at any point to her class, but that probably didn’t matter as they were all so wrapped up in Christmas nonsense that Nina could’ve left the classroom and they wouldn’t have given a shit.

She was just getting ready to leave work for the weekend when Bianca stuck her head into her classroom and made her almost jump fifty feet in the air.

“Nina,” she began, in her own blunt, abrasive way. She didn’t wait for Nina to greet her as she continued. “I know you must be wandering around with your head in the clouds at the moment, but next time do you think you could maybe just run the video by me first? I mean you’re very lucky that the parents took that well. I mean it’s really about the kids, y’know?”

Nina could only blink at her wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights, getting into trouble but not entirely sure what for. Loath to say anything in response, she simply nodded.

“I mean you should’ve really kept it out,” Bianca frowned. She let the awkward, tense silence hang in the air for a few moments before a humoured smile appeared on her face. “But congratulations. I’m very happy for you.”

Without stopping for Nina to reply, Bianca had turned on her heel and left her classroom. Nina could only look at the space she’d previously been standing in. Maybe all of this was a dream. A fever dream. She’d probably contracted some sort of illness and was experiencing some hallucinogenic vision.

She didn’t know how she made it home without causing a crash, but she managed, and as soon as she was through the door she began to vent to the person she loved most.  

“Monet!” she called through to the kitchen, hanging her belongings up. “I’ve had the weirdest fucking day in living memory. So first all the teachers were congratulating me…then I got a present from the parents…then Willam was screaming about me not knowing something…and then Bianca gave me a row at the end of the day…but I still don’t know exactly why…but then she said congratulations to me too?”

It was only when Nina stopped and walked through to the kitchen that she saw the kitchen table all done up with candles and laid beautifully, Nina’s favourite meal (slow cooker beef and buttery mash) on two plates, and Monet sitting at the table with her makeup done, dressed in a backless blue bodycon that Nina had once very nearly broke the zip of trying to rip it off her one weekend away.

“Uh…” Nina frowned, more confused than ever. Slowly, as a smile spread across Monet’s face, she began to connect all the dots of weird and the picture it presented illustrated that somehow her girlfriend had to be behind it all. “Okay, what’s going on?”

Monet got up and leant against the kitchen counter. She very gently took both of Nina’s hands in hers. “You didn’t watch the whole video once I exported it, did you?”

Something like dread crossed with excitement began to pool in Nina’s gut. She narrowed her eyes. “Monet…what did you do?”

Wordlessly, Monet reached back across to the table where she picked up her phone and loaded up the Nativity video. Skipping to the end, she got past the end of Jingle Bells and showed the video to Nina. The screen faded to black, and then, Nina watched as another little title card faded into view.

To the teacher that always gives so much of herself to others, I now want to give all of myself to you.

Miss West, will you marry me?

Love, Monet x

And suddenly everything in Nina felt as if it was made of fire, adrenaline and jet fuel. Her eyes flew open, her hand smacked against her shocked, gaping mouth. Her pulse raced and her heart hammered and all of her limbs turned to jelly to the extent she wasn’t sure she was able to stand any more. When she took her eyes off her phone screen and looked at Monet, her girlfriend was down on their kitchen floor, down on one knee like in every princess movie Nina had ever seen, her hair soft and curled and loose on her shoulders and a bright smile on her painted taupe lips. Gemstone tears brimmed in her dark eyes and hung from her lashes like icicles, and there, in her outstretched hands, was an open navy box.

Inside was a ring - gold band, one small diamond - and it was when Nina saw it that she gave a sob, her own tears springing from her eyes like a broken fountain, uncontrollable and erratic.

“Oh, baby, c’mere,” Monet gave a small laugh, shaking her head and immediately rising from the floor to wrap her arms around her in a hug. Nina took a few shaky, shallow breaths, pawing at Monet’s chest to release herself from her grip and look her in the eyes.

“You! You knew…all this time, and you…you put it in the video, oh my GOD, Monet, I could’ve got in so much trouble…I did get in so much trouble, oh my God…and you didn’t even tell me-”

“I thought you’d at least watch the damn thing through before you uploaded it!” Monet burst out laughing through her tears, and Nina joined in in a lightheaded, giddy way.

“I can’t believe this is real. Fuck. My whole body feels like that time we did poppers in Crete. Oh my God. Is this happening? You want to marry me?”

“Well, I would love to marry you, but I’m waiting on an answer,” Monet smiled bashfully, bringing her arm out from around Nina’s waist and holding the ring up so Nina could see it.

The diamond only seemed to glisten more when she saw it through the tears in her own eyes, and the gold shone warm like the brightest star. It was an engagement ring- her engagement ring- and it was real, and it was surreal, but Monet was in front of her waiting for an answer with tears in her eyes and hope in her heart that matched her own.

DAY ONE OF SPRING BREAK

“Spring break is a time to relax, right?”

“Mhm.”

“The idea is to get away from it all, right?”

“Sure.”

“‘It all’ includes hopeless crushes, right?”

“Why not?”

“Then explain to me how this is fair?”

“My eyes are telling me it’s very fair,” Willam says, sliding her sunglasses down her nose to leer over at the ice cream hut. “Maybe even a blessing.”

“I hate you,” Alaska says, but she lets her eyes follow Willam’s gaze. The sight that greets her confirms it: her spring break is completely, utterly, unfairly ruined.

Sharon Needles is standing at the stationary ice cream truck, talking animatedly with Jinkx Monsoon and completely oblivious to her enraptured audience.

“This is homophobic,” Alaska says, her eyes never leaving the other woman.

“I was just about to say gay rights,” Willam says, and Alaska takes a deep breath.

Alaska has had a crush on Sharon ever since she cracked a joke the first day of their shared government class last semester, so, naturally, Alaska has learned a few things about her: Sharon is a poli-sci major in her junior year. Sharon is at the top of her class. Sharon throws the best Halloween parties on campus. Sharon fights with the pastors that come to yell at passers-by on the quad. Sharon exclusively wears ratty t-shirts and ripped jeans. Sharon sneers at the word ‘sexy’ like it spit on her mother.

Sharon Needles is currently getting ice cream dressed in the sexiest bikini Alaska has ever laid eyes on.

It’s black, with a simple bra and a high waisted black bottom. Netting covers the top and ties around the neck, standing out against Sharon’s pale skin. Gold caps off the end of each string, catching the light attractively when Sharon shifts, laughing. It hugs Sharon’s figure tightly (of fucking course, it’s a bathing suit), showing off… everything.

“Staring is rude,” Willam says, and Alaska tears her eyes away from Sharon’s ass, cheeks burning.

“I wasn’t staring,” she says automatically. “Let’s go lay down with Courtney.”

“No ice cream?” Willam asks, voice verging on a whine, and Alaska ignores her, marching back down the beach towards Courtney, who is lazing in the sun and has been since three hours before, despite her skin already being perfectly bronzed.

“Oh, hello!” Courntey says, pleasantly surprised as Alaska flops down next to her. Willam daintily lies down on her other side. “How was the ice cream?”

“Apparently Sharon’s too sexy to be getting any ice cream,” Willam says simply.

“Willam!”

“Ah,” Courtney says sagely, looking at Alaska with sympathy. “She does look good today. I just saw her with Jinkx Monsoon.”

Alaska groans, giving into temptation and looking back at the ice cream truck just in time to see Sharon catch a drip of melted ice cream and lick it off of her finger. She does it exaggeratedly slowly, clearly in an effort to make Jinkx laugh, but all Alaska can focus on is the way her red lips split into a slow smile around her tongue.

“Fuck my life,” Alaska says, watching as Sharon cackles at the face Jinkx is making. A little bubble of jealousy springs up in her belly - she should be the one making Sharon laugh.

“Calm down,” Willam says flatly, and Alaska glares at her.

“I’ll calm down when she stops wearing that swimsuit and goes back to baggy t-shirts. Where the fuck did this even come from?”

“I think Raja Gemini got her hands on her,” Willam says.

“So Raja Gemini is to blame for ruining my life,” Alaska groans, laying down in defeat. Or maybe she owes Raja her life. Either one.

“She’s doing a swimsuit project for the school magazine,” Courtney says excitedly. “She’s done at least seven different designs, and they’re all supposed to be crazy unique. It was actually supposed to be last year’s spread, but they couldn’t find the right model.”

“She rejected Naomi Smalls, Violet Chachki, and fuckin’ Courtney,” Willam says, and then she pauses as if in thought. “I guess I would want someone with boobs, too.”

“Hey!” Courtney shrieks, laughing. Alaska shrugs.

“Makes sense,” she says. “Those girls are too skinny, anyway.”

Willam snorts. “You’re one to talk. Sharon could break you in half.”

“Yes, please,” Alaska says.

“Why don’t you go over and ask her, then?”

Alaska looks at her. “You have to know that’s not an option.”

Willam shrugs. “Your fingers, I guess.”

Alaska hits her with Courtney’s rolled up towel.

-

DAY TWO OF SPRING BREAK

“Tell me again why we chose to come to the most popular beach?”

“Because going with my parents to their new lakehouse would have sucked harder.”

“I don’t know,” Alaska says, her book forgotten on her stomach as she stares twenty feet to her left. “At least there would be a chance of me finishing Macbeth.”

“You don’t go to the beach to catch up in your English classes, whore,” Willam says. “You go to ogle at everyone.”

“Well,” Alaska says grimly. “I’m certainly ogling.”

Courtney had been right - Raja Gemini is doing a photoshoot, it is based on swimsuits, and Sharon is her model. They’ve decided to do the shoot on the beach itself, and currently, they are too close for Alaska’s sanity.

She watches as Raja jams the feet of her tripod into the sand, laughing at something Sharon has just said and tossing her long, straight black hair behind her back as she fiddles with her equipment. Her swimsuit is fun, made up of a strappy pink top and bottoms with a gigantic eye on the ass, but Alaska’s eyes gravitate towards Sharon no matter what she tries to focus on.

Sharon stands just off to the side, patiently waiting with her hands on her hips, completely oblivious to the way Alaska’s mouth goes dry just looking at her.

She’s in a one piece today, made up of a dangerously see through lace that shines when the sun hits it. It’s certainly unique - it covers her chest in a turtleneck and has sleeves that go down to her wrists. Her legs are bared normally, her pale skin offset brilliantly by the olive green of the fabric, and her lips are painted a dark eggplant.

If this carries on for the rest of the week, Alaska is completely screwed.

“We have to change spots,” she says, as Sharon walks over to help Raja with her camera. God, she’s so helpful. And considerate. And hot. “Like, immediately.”

“I fought a ten year old kid for this spot,” Willam says. “That’s not happening.”

“Willam,” Alaska whines, flipping over to glare at her friend. Willam is unmoved, expression blank behind her mirrored sunglasses. “If I have to suffer like this for much longer, I’ll die.”

“I’ll make sure to say nice things at your funeral,” Willam tells her. “Courtney yelled at me about the kid. I didn’t sit through that just to leave two days in.”

“Courtney’s getting you a margarita right now,” Alaska says drily. “I think she’s over it.”

“Yeah,” Willam says. “Having a girlfriend sure is nice.”

“Don’t act like she wasn’t the one to ask you,” Alaska snaps back, and Willam raises an eyebrow.

“So you’re never going to make a move?” she asks, and Alaska turns to look at Sharon again, forlorn and resigned to her fate of forever looking from afar.

“That’s exactly what I– what the fuck is she doing?”

Courtney is currently traipsing towards Raja and Sharon, two margaritas in her hands and a huge grin on her face. As she nears them, she turns her head to meet Alaska’s glare. She winks.

“I’m going to kill her,” Alaska says lowly, horror creeping under her skin, and Willam laughs.

“I guess Courtney’s going to make a move for you,” she says, and dread suddenly breaks over Alaska in a cold sweat.

“She’d better fucking not be,” she says, watching Courtney finish talking to the other two. “I swear–”

“Courtney!” Sharon hollers, and Courtney stops making her way back towards Alaska and Willam to turn around.

“Yeah?”

“We’re having a party tomorrow night! You and Willam should come! Alaska too!”

Alaska’s breath catches at the sound of her name.

“Yeah!” Courtney calls back, but not before she flashes Alaska a cheeky grin. Alaska hates her. “Totally!”

“I’ll text Willam the details!” Sharon shouts, and Alaska turns to stare at Willam.

“You have her number?” she asks incredulously.

“I have everyone’s number,” Willam says, shrugging. “Plus, we smoke sometimes.”

“You smoke sometimes?!” Alaska cries. “Why haven’t I heard about this?!”

“It’s not important!” Willam says, widening her eyes with annoyance “I smoke with everyone!”

“Smoke?” Courtney asks before Alaska can fire back an response, flopping onto the gigantic beach blanket Willam had procured at the beginning of the trip. “I would kill for a joint right now.”

“You made me leave the weed behind, remember?”

“Right.”

Alaska turns her attention back to Macbeth, over the conversation, her face burning and more absurd jealousy making it hard to focus on the words. If she can just get this act finished –

“Awww!” Courtney squeals, sounding excited. “They’ve started the shoot! Sharon looks amazing!”

Alaska is required by law to look, and when she does, her heartbeat goes straight to her underwear. She can’t tear her eyes away from Sharon, lounging on the sand with her blonde curls strewn beneath her, giving the camera the bedroomiest bedroom eyes Alaska has ever seen.

This isn’t fair.

“Damn,” Willam notes from behind her. “I thought she was going to be awkward.”

“I’m entranced,” Alaska says, watching Sharon shift positions. She’s only half joking. “I’m bewitched.”

“I’m bored,” Willam says. “Let’s go swimming.”

“I swear, you have the attention span of a goldfish,” Courtney says, looking reluctant to stop watching the shoot, but standing up anyway. Willam shrugs.

“Sorry,” she says, clearly not. She looks at Alaska. “You coming?”

Alaska grimaces. “I need to finish this,” she says, looking at Willam apologetically. She lifts up Macbeth. “Sorry.”

“I would have just taken ‘I’m too horny’,” Willam says drily, and Alaska’s jaw drops.

“Bitch!”

“Have fun!” Willam says, grabbing Courtney’s wrist and tugging her towards the water. Alaska waves them goodbye until they’re too wrapped up in each other to even think about her, and then she forces herself to look back at her book. She hadn’t been lying - she needs to read. She will finish Act One by the end of the day, god help her.

She gets two lines in before Sharon’s laughter floats by, and suddenly, Lady Macbeth’s speech is completely lacking in engagement. Before she can help it, Alaska’s eyes trail up towards the photoshoot, and a jolt runs through her at the sight of Sharon straddling a chair, her legs spread and on full display.

Alaska doesn’t look at Macbeth again until Sharon is off of the beach and out of her sight.

DAY THREE OF SPRING BREAK

Raja’s parties have always been loud, drunk, and glittery, and this one is no exception.

It’s a beach party, so Alaska, Willam, and Courtney all show up in their swimwear. Except - they have absolutely no intention of swimming.

They all have makeup on - Willam’s bright and sparkly, Courtney’s subtle, and Alaska’s the best that she could manage. Willam has body glitter spread down her arms and legs, which has spread to Alaska and Courtney by mere association, and Alaska can only hope that the chunky blue sparkles go well with her bubblegum pink bikini.

“Now this is a party!” Willam shouts over the music, and Courntey nods, grinning.

“You know what it’s missing?” she shouts back.

“Us!” Willam yells, and then they’re making their way through the crowd to the makeshift bar, which is a fold out table littered with red solo cups and booze. Alaska’s heart stops with every platinum blonde girl that they bump into on the way, and she’s relieved when they make it to their destination seeing neither hide nor hair of Sharon.

Willam fills one of the cups with beer out of the keg and thrusts it at Alaska. Alaska shakes her head at it, too nervous to drink and not the biggest fan of beer, anyway.

“Not tonight!” she says loudly, and a sudden voice from behind her makes her jump five feet into the air.

“Wow, didn’t have you pegged for a stick in the mud!”

She whirls around to find Sharon standing just beside her, a red solo cup in her hand and her cheeks flushed with excitement and alcohol. As if her sudden appearance wasn’t enough to kill Alaska on sight, she’s in another exquisitely fitting bathing suit, black and glittery and with a deep, deep V.

“Um,” Alaska says intelligently, her eyes glued to the pale expanse of Sharon’s chest, and Sharon grins.

“You like it?” she asks, glancing down at herself. “Raja made it by hand - I’m not allowed to go swimming with it, because the glitter will wash off. I’m not entirely sure she’s suited for swimwear.”

Alaska laughs, regaining her footing, a little. She will not make a fool out of herself right now. She’s sober, and Sharon knows it - she won’t have an excuse for being an idiot in the morning. “I’m not sure you should really be swimming in October, anyway,” Alaska drawls, referring to the spider web shape of the strapless bra cups, and Sharon cackles.

“It’s not her fault,” she says, grinning. “I requested something a little spookier.”

“Well, I like it,” Alaska says, openly admiring it now that she has permission. “It’s my favorite so far.”

“So far?” Sharon asks, raising an amused eyebrow. “Have you been sneaking peeks?”

Alaska feels like her face is on fire. “Uh–”

“Alaska,” Sharon admonishes, but there’s a smile threatening to break through her scandalized frown. “Raja doesn’t want anyone to see until the spread is finished.”

“Then don’t do it on a public beach!” Alaska cries. “You’re distracting!”

“Am I?”

Alaska hadn’t thought blushing harder was possible, but the heat creeping up her neck says otherwise. “I mean - with the cameras, and everything - it’s a whole production, you know.”

Sharon laughs at her stammering, and Alaska can’t help the affection that warms in her chest at how loud it is. “You can say it’s my bad modeling,” she says, and she touches Alaska’s arm like she’s sharing a secret. Alaska freezes, afraid of somehow scaring her away. “I have no idea why Raja chose me, but I’m milking it for as long as she thinks I’m worth it.”

“You are,” Alaska says without thinking, and then she sucks in a breath, watching Sharon’s face for confusion - or something worse.

Instead, Sharon leans forwards a little, frowning. “What?” she says, louder than before, and Alaska can’t help but sag with relief.

“I said ‘good idea’!” she shouts, and Sharon’s face splits into another smile.

“Let’s go outside!” she says. “I can’t hear a goddamned thing!”

And before Alaska can respond either way (yes - of course she’d say yes), Sharon’s grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowd, towards a pair of sliding glass doors near the back. Her ears ring as they exit the house, the sudden silence more of a relief than she’d expected, and Sharon slides the door shut behind them, muffling the music even further.

“Thank god,” Sharon moans. “I thought my head was going to burst in there.”

“Really?” Alaska teases. “That seems kind of lame for someone who throws the best parties on campus to say.”

“Halloween parties,” Sharon corrects, like Alaska doesn’t already know. “And I’m usually already drunk by the time those start. Whatever’s in those kegs doesn’t seem to be doing the trick, tonight.”

“You mean I’m talking to a sober Sharon Needles right now?” Alaska cries, pulling her face in exaggerated shock. “No.”

“Yes,” Sharon says, nodding gravely. “It’s horrible.”

“I don’t think you were even sober for Dujour’s class,” Alaska says, shaking her head. “Can I take a picture with you? This needs to be documented.”

“Well, I can’t believe you were sober for Dujour’s class,” Sharon says, her tooth gap on full display. “It was a nightmare even when I was drunk out of my mind.”

“That was a government class!” Alaska laughs, staring at Sharon in amused disbelief. “You needed that class more than I did!”

“I had your notes!” Sharon says. “I’m sure I got more out of those than I would have out of Dujour’s mouth.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Alaska drawls. “I’m pretty sure my notes are the reason you don’t have to retake that class.”

“I said thank you!” Sharon says, her defensive tone undercut by the huge smile on her face. Alaska finds herself mirroring it, Sharon’s grin infectious.

“You were drunk!” Alaska tells her. “That hardly counts!”

“Then allow me to say it again: thank you, my hero,” Sharon says, and then, before Alaska can tell her that sarcasm doesn’t count either, she grabs her hand and bows over it, kissing her knuckles.

Alaska is certain that her face goes at least five shades of red, Sharon’s lips soft and burning against her fingers. “You’re welcome,” she says weakly, as lightly as she can with her heart threatening to pound out of her chest. Suddenly, she is very, very aware that she and Sharon might as well be alone together, the sliding glass door practically a chasm between the quiet beach and the roaring party.

Sharon lets go of her hand as soon as she’s done, giving Alaska another gap-toothed grin. Her lips are black to match her bathing suit, her blue eyes done up in shades of grey, and Alaska’s breath catches in her throat as she watches the party lights dance across her face.

“Now,” Sharon says, like nothing remotely romantic or intimate has just occurred. Alaska thinks she might have whiplash. “Do you like swimming?”

“What?” Alaska asks, her face still burning from earlier and her brain struggling to catch up.

“This suit may not be functional, but tomorrow’s is,” Sharon explains, “I want someone to swim with me tomorrow. Sun tanning isn’t exactly my thing.”

Alaska laughs at her. “No, I wouldn’t expect it to be,” she says dryly, and Sharon shrugs, grinning.

“Well? What do you say?”

Alaska’s heart starts to quicken, her palms sweaty. She bites back the ‘Of course!’ she wants to say, instead sticking to her teasing. The last thing she wants Sharon to think is that she’s overeager - she does not, under any circumstances, want to fuck this up.

“What happened to Raja?” she asks. “Or are you only using her to get fame and fortune?”

Sharon snorts. “I wish,” she says, rolling her eyes up in a playful expression. Alaska is entranced. “But I don’t expect Raja’s graduation project to make me anything but masturbation material.”

“Sharon!” Alaska cries, unable to help the laugh that escapes her. A pleased smile curves across Sharon’s face.

“I only speak the truth,” she says. “And Raja doesn’t like to swim - she’s afraid of the water.”

“She is?”

“More specifically the undertow,” Sharon says. “I don’t like thinking about it much either.”

Alaska twists her lips in acknowledgement. “I guess, but–”

The sliding glass door suddenly opens with a sharp bang, making both women jump and Alaska cut her sentence short with a small yelp. She whips her head around to look at the door, already upset at being interrupted. Dammit.

Willam stands in the doorway, looking somewhere between her fourth or fifth drink, grinning like a loon. “‘Laska!” she shouts, much too loudly. “Courtney’s chugging the keg! Courtney!”

“Courtney?” Alaska repeats, disbelieving. As a rule, Courtney only drinks things served with at least one toothpicked fruit - Alaska doesn’t think she even knows what cheap college beer tastes like.

“It’s crazy!” Willam yells, eyes wide, and she walks over to grab Alaska’s wrist, tugging her inside. “Come quick, or you’ll miss it!”

“Wait!” Sharon says, and Alaska stops, resisting Willam’s drunken attempts to keep pulling her with a strength that only comes with the will to please Sharon Needles. “Tomorrow?”

“I’m there,” Alaska manages to say without stuttering, and her heart flutters as she says it, the glitter on Sharon’s bathing suit sparkling attractively in the moonlight. “When?”

“7 pm, by the lighthouse?”

Alaska has plans to go to some bonfire with Willam and Courtney at seven, but it takes her all of two seconds to decide that it’s not at all important. “Perfect.”

Sharon smiles, and it’s sweeter than the grins she’s been shooting Alaska all night. Alaska could look at her forever. “It’s a date,” she says.

Alaska is pretty sure her heart actually stops.

All she can do is stare, her jaw slackened and her cheeks burning, for a too-long moment. Sharon gives her a strange look, laughing a little.

“Are you alright?”

“Um,” Alaska says, because she’s stupid and her brain stopped functioning the moment Sharon arrived on the beach in that fucking bikini. “I’m, uh–”

Willam, always helpful only on accident, suddenly gives a particularly hard tug against her arm, and Alaska is jerked back into the thumping music of the party, bodies pressing against her as Willam leads her straight into the middle of a crowd. Courtney is in the middle, upside down and downing beer from the keg, but Alaska can hardly bring herself to care. Instead, her mind keeps wandering towards Sharon, her blonde hair nearly white in the moonlight and her eyes glittering with amusement.

It’s a date.

She doesn’t know if the way her stomach flips is out of nerves or excitement.

DAY FOUR OF SPRING BREAK

The sunset is gorgeous.

It’s pink and yellow and orange, glittering across the water with blinding light, the clouds streaks of bright coral against the sun’s burning yellow. Alaska glances at its arresting beauty, sighing appreciatively, and then she goes back to staring at the woman next to her.

Sharon’s swimsuit is a bright red one piece, with cute white pinstripes that nod to the forties, the sharp angles of her waist adding to the post-war feeling. The plunging neckline, however, is very much reminiscent of the modern era, and is very much what Alaska’s eyes keep getting stuck on.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sharon says, her eyes still on the horizon. “It’s like looking at sherbet ice cream.”

“Mhm,” Alaska says, raising her gaze a little to rest on Sharon’s face. Her makeup is lighter, today, with only a bold red lip and winged black eyeliner, and Alaska finds the painted on beauty mark charming. “Love it.”

Sharon turns to look at her, and she wrenches her gaze quickly to look out at the sunset, her face burning. “Something tells me you’re not looking at the sunset,” she says, her voice teasing, and Alaska blushes so hard she can feel her ears burning. She looks at Sharon apologetically, unable to meet her eyes.

“I - uh - I’m–”

“I’ll make sure to let Raja know,” Sharon continues, giving Alaska a fond smile. Alaska immediately stops attempting to say anything, her heart bouncing around her ribcage. “She wasn’t so sure about this one, so it’ll be good to hear.”

“What?” Alaska asks, completely lost, her ears still warm. “I don’t - what?”

Sharon frowns, glancing down at herself. “The swimsuit? You want it, don’t you?”

Realization clicks in Alaska’s end, and suddenly, relief along with a strange hint of disappointment has her nearly falling over. Sharon’s completely oblivious - thank god. “Yes. Yes, the swimsuit. That’s what I was looking at.”

Sharon doesn’t look convinced, her eyes lingering on Alaska’s face. Alaska feels like a butterfly pinned to styrofoam. “You do like it, right? I’m not just assuming?”

“No,” Alaska says hurriedly, surprised. Sharon sounds almost insecure, unsure of herself, and it’s something Alaska never wants to hear in her voice again. She keeps forgetting that Sharon isn’t used to dressing like this, no matter how much it seems like she’s doing it to torture Alaska specifically. “I love it. It’s very forties.” She stumbles over the ‘f’, meaning to say flattering and chickening out at the last second.

Sharon grins. “Thanks,” she says. “You can relax, I’ll stop fishing for compliments.”

Alaska doesn’t know whether to feel relieved at the unintentional save, or to try and defend Sharon from herself - she doesn’t know which way is up most of the time, around this woman, so this is completely hopeless. She finally speaks after a too-long pause. “You weren’t–”

“Let’s go! I’ve been dying to get in the water all day!”

Sharon grabs Alaska’s hand, and Alaska doesn’t breathe the entire time Sharon drags her towards the water, Sharon’s fingers curled around hers the only thing on her mind. She finally sucks in a breath as they hit the water, the cold making goosebumps blossom across her skin.

“Jesus!” Sharon says, stopping as soon as the water reaches her thighs. It takes actual effort for Alaska to keep her eyes from lingering there. “No one told me it was freezing!”

She squeezes Alaska’s hand harder as the waves come up to hit her stomach. Alaska feels too warm to notice the water brushing across her own thighs, her heart in her throat.

“Do you want to get out?” she asks, even as disappointment sinks in her gut. Relief wars with it - she wants to spend more time with Sharon, spend all of her time with Sharon, but her anxiety tells her that if she spends too much time with her, she’ll fuck it up. She doesn’t know if she can handle that.

Sharon shoots her a scandalized look, letting go of her hand to turn towards her. Alaska tries not to mourn the loss. “Of course not!” Sharon says. “We just have to go in all at once.”

Alaska pulls a face at the idea. She’s never liked the ‘bandaid’ approach to things. “Are you sure?”

“What?” Sharon teases. “Are you scared?”

“Yes,” Alaska says plainly, and she smiles at the laugh Sharon lets out.

“Be brave for me?” she asks, and Alaska’s stomach does several somersaults.

“Of course,” she says, and Sharon grins.

Alaska follows Sharon as she wades out further, both girls shrieking as the icy water comes up to hit some new section of skin. Sharon stops as the water comes just below her shoulders, her hair streaming behind her like a mermaid’s. She looks enchanting in the orange of the setting sun, the blue of her eyes almost electric as the sun shines across them.

“Count of three,” Sharon says. “We duck under.”

Alaska nods. Sharon takes a deep breath.

“One,” she says.

“Two,” Alaska counts. Sharon’s smile is blinding.

“Three.”

They duck under, Sharon heedless of her makeup and Alaska steeling herself for the shock of the cold. It’s freezing, but her body soon acclimates to the temperature of the water, and she surfaces feeling refreshed.

She comes up before Sharon, so she watches as the other woman comes up for hair, her hair slicked back from her face and her mascara bleeding a little, a huge grin splitting her face. She looks stunning, and Alaska’s breath gets caught in her throat as she takes her in, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since Raja told me she wanted me to model for her,” Sharon laughs. “After I figured out she wasn’t joking, of course.”

“Of course she wasn’t joking,” Alaska says before she can stop herself. “You’re perfect for this.”

Sharon raises her eyebrows. “Believe me, I’m not. Her suits are doing most of the work. All I have to do is stand the way Raja tells me to stand.”

“Please,” Alaska blurts out. “The suits are hardly the reason I’ve been watching the photoshoots.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Alaska thinks very hard about ducking under the water again and not coming up again.

Sharon is looking at her with a curious expression, and Alaska suddenly needs to get away right now.

“What do you m–”

“I have to go,” Alaska interrupts, panic making everything too much, too fast. “I just remembered, I have - something.” She starts wading towards shore, but Sharon grabs her wrist.

“Alaska, wait,” she says, and Alaska turns to look at her, avoiding her eyes. Her eyes get caught on Sharon’s lips, set in an adorable pout, and she has just enough time to imagine what it’s like to kiss her before she rips her gaze away. “What plans?”

“Um–” Alaska says, completely panicking, Sharon’s fingers too warm around her wrist and her eyes too intense on Alaska’s. The sun is dimming, casting them in purplish grey. She casts about for a good excuse, and she lets out a breath when she finds one. “There’s a bonfire. I’m already late - I promised Willam I would go with her.”

“The bonfire?” Sharon asks, letting go of Alaska’s wrist. Alaska turns to go again, cursing when she hears Sharon start to follow her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know,” Alaska says, even though she knows exactly why. They make it onto the beach, and Alaska grabs her towel, drying off hurriedly. “I - I don’t know.”

“I doubt that,” Sharon says. “What did you mean, earlier?”

“What?” Alaska asks, playing dumb. She can’t find her phone. Where the fuck is her phone?

“Alaska,” Sharon says, and she sounds frustrated. Alaska winces. “Do you like me?”

Alaska freezes, terror ripping through her as she scrambles for a denial. “No,” she snaps out, panic making her voice hard and sharp. Sharon takes a step back, her eyes widening, and Alaska feels guilt drop into her stomach like a deadweight. She could cry at any moment. “I don’t,” she continues, her voice gentler. She can only pray that Sharon doesn’t hear the way her voice trembles. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I didn’t realize liking me was such a stupid idea,” Sharon says, hurt bleeding through her voice. Alaska wants to sink into the ground and die.

“No, I didn’t mean–”

“I know,” Sharon interrupts, her shoulders slumping. She looks put out - Alaska hadn’t realized how badly she wanted to go swimming. “I know what you meant.”

Alaska finally finds her phone underneath Sharon’s towel, and relief courses through her as she shoves her feet into her sandals. “I have to go,” she says, and Sharon snorts, but there’s no laughter in it.

“So you’ve said,” she says. “Have fun.”

“I will,” Alaska says, plastering fake-cheer all over herself, and she practically runs away, the image of Sharon and her closed-lipped smile, bathed in the moonlight and hair still dripping, burned into her mind.

She can’t help but feel like she’s just ruined something, but she has no idea what.

DAY FIVE OF SPRING BREAK

Alaska avoids Sharon to the best of her abilities, life threatening embarrassment making her stomach twist at even the thought of facing her after last night, but of course, she still ends up stumbling across her.

She’s getting margaritas with Willam and Courtney, which is fun only until they both reveal themselves to be wildly unsympathetic to her plight.

“So you spent two nights flirting with her,” Willam says, after giving Alaska a long, unimpressed stare when she’d finally answered Courtney’s incessant questions about her ‘date’, “only to freak out when things started to actually go somewhere.”

“Nothing was going anywhere,” Alaska snaps. “I fucked it up, and she noticed.”

“Didn’t you say you two were on a date?” Courtney asks, frowning. They move up in line. “Sounds to me like that’s what she wanted.”

“She obviously called it a date as a joke,” Alaska tells her. “I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable,” Willam says. Alaska could punch her.

“You should at least try to talk to her,” Courtney says. “You can’t just run away from her in the middle of a date and never talk to her again.”

“That shit ain’t right,” Willam agrees, and Alaska rolls her lips between her teeth.

“It wasn’t a date,” she reiterates. “And I can’t talk to her. I have no idea where she’s staying - she could be anywhere right now.”

Courtney frowns at her. “She’s right there,” she says, pointing down the beach. “I thought you’d noticed.”

Alaska follows her gaze to find Sharon and Raja in the middle of another photoshoot, this time close enough for Sharon’s feet to be in the water.

Alaska can’t look away from her.

She’s dressed in a two piece, the bottoms designed to look like high waisted blue shorts and the top a black and white pinstriped bra, cut into a sweetheart neckline that suits her perfectly. Her hair is done up in round, loose curls, spilling over her shoulders and back, and a white sailor hat sits cock-eyed at the top of her head. Her lips are painted a bright red, pulled into a pout as she salutes the camera, her other hand at her hip.

“I can’t go down there,” Alaska says, shaking her head. “I can’t go up to her and try to talk about my predatory behavior when she looks like that.”

“Predatory is one way to say it,” Willam says, and Courtney hits her on the arm. She turns to look at Alaska eagerly.

“You’re not predatory, silly,” she says. “You have a crush, and so does Sharon. Go down there and fix what you’ve broken.”

“Ouch,” Alaska says, and her stomach twists nervously at the thought of doing what Courtney tells her to. “And I can’t - she doesn’t– She doesn’t think of me like that.”

“How are you supposed to know when all you do is stare at her like some stalker?” Willam asks, and Alaska shakes her head. They reach the counter, now at the front of the line.

“I just know,” Alaska says, resisting the urge to stamp her foot with the frustration that’s bubbling up inside her. They just don’t get it. “I have, despite popular belief, actually held a conversation with her. I’m not doing it.”

“But how–”

“Welcome, ladies - how can I help you?” the cashier asks, giving them all a friendly smile. Alaska relaxes as Willam and Courtney start ordering, relieved that their interrogation is temporarily put on hold.

She sneaks a glance back at Sharon, who’s now crowded with Raja around the camera, no doubt looking at the pictures they’ve just taken. She’s sure they’re all wonderful.

Sharon’s ass looks great in those shorts.

Alaska’s never going to be able to look her in the eye again.

DAY SIX OF SPRING BREAK

“This is stupid,” Willam says. “I can’t believe how stupid you’re being right now.”

“It’s called self-preservation,” Alaska says.

They’re sitting on their blanket, sneaking glances at Raja and Sharon, in the same place they’d been for most of the week. Sharon is stunning, in an eggplant bikini that suits her pale skin, made to look like it’s been wrapped and twisted around her body. Her makeup is dark to match the suit, and she’s so hot that Alaska thinks she might die.

“Right,” Willam says drily. “Why won’t you just go talk to her?”

“Because,” Alaska sighs forlornly, her heart fluttering as Sharon’s lips twist up into a smile. “I can’t.”

Sharon’s eyes flick over to her, and her heart skips a beat. She tries not to feel hurt when Sharon immediately looks back at Raja, seemingly without giving Alaska a second thought.

“I don’t think she wants me to, anyway.”

DAY SEVEN OF SPRING BREAK

It’s not the last day of break, but it is the last day they’re on the beach, and Alaska’s plan is simple: avoid Sharon, mope around while Courtney and Willam rub their happiness in her face, and maybe sneak a peek at Sharon’s next bathing suit.

Willam, unfortunately, has never had very much respect for Alaska’s plans.

“I invited some people over,” Willam says from her spot next to Alaska on the couch, her eyes never leaving her phone. Her voice is nonchalant, but Alaska still shoots her a wary look.

“Who?”

Camping out in the Belli family’s beach house had been Alaska’s idea, a stroke of genius she’d had the previous night. She can’t seem to avoid Sharon successfully on the beach, so she’ll leave it entirely. She won’t be able to catch sight of Sharon if she’s sitting on a couch watching The Golden Girls on Willam’s enormous television.

“Raja, Jinkx,” Willam lists. “Sharon.”

Alaska’s heart does a swan dive into her stomach.

“That had better be a joke.”

Willam looks up at her. “It’s not.”

Alaska turns off the tv, turning to face Willam full-on, murder in her heart. “Willam, why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because Raja asked if she could,” Willam says, and then, “and because I thought it might be a nice opportunity for you to make out with her.”

“Willam,” Alaska hisses, panicking. “How could you?”

“You’ll be fine,” Willam says, hopping off the couch. “Though I suggest you get ready - they’ll be here in half an hour, and Sharon and Raja are coming straight from their photoshoot.”

“No,” Alaska breathes, aghast.

“Yes,” Willam says. “At least go put some mascara on. You look like you’re a hospital patient.”

“I hate you,” Alaska says, and she really feels it.

“You’re wearing pajamas,” Willam tells her. “They have ‘cunt’ printed across the ass.”

“Fuck,” Alaska says, and she stands up. “Jesus fuck, Willam!”

“It’ll be good for you,” Willam says, as Alaska races past her towards the stairs. “Courtney agrees!”

Alaska makes sure to slam the door to the bathroom extra hard.

-

Sharon arrives in a red one piece that practically screams ‘lust’, and it is the most homophobic thing to have ever happened to Alaska.

It’s wine dark and strapless, and the front of it is laced like a corset, allowing Sharon’s pale skin to peek through. The sweetheart neckline perfectly hugs her, emphasizing her full chest and her collarbone. Her lips are painted to match, her eyeshadow dark, and Alaska might go into cardiac arrest just looking at her. It’s like looking at a 15th century bar wench. Alaska wants her to pin her up against the wall and–

“We brought wine?” Raja says, her deep voice startling Alaska back into her body, and she realizes that she’s been making them wait in the doorway for a full minute.

“Great,” Alaska says, her face on fire, and she lets the two of them in, trying not to wince at the cordial smile Sharon gives her. She makes a note to kill Willam later for making her answer the door.

“You can set it on the counter,” she directs, and Sharon follows Raja into the kitchen, where Willam, Jinkx, and Courtney are waiting. Alaska lets out a breath as she closes the door, trying to decide if she’s relieved or hurt that Sharon doesn’t want to be alone with her.

She doesn’t know why Willam’s decided that this is going to be helpful in any way, but she supposes she has to deal with it, now. Deal with being around her crush who’s disgusted that she has a crush on her for who knows how long.

Not the ideal way to spend her last night on vacation.

“‘Laska!” Willam calls. “Come in here! We’re trying to decide what to play!”

Alaska sighs, steeling herself for more of Sharon’s apathy.

Fuck my life.

-

Willam, Courtney, Raja, and Jinkx all conveniently vote to play Seven Minutes in Heaven, despite Sharon and Alaska’s vehement protests and the fact that none of them have been in high school for at least three years.

They’d found an old wine bottle that Willam’s mother had filled with sand and dried flowers on an end table somewhere, and they’d emptied it, Courtney suggesting that they select the first two participants by spinning it.

Conveniently, and without any sort of finagling of Willam’s, or strategic flicks from Courtney, or purposeful nudges from Raja, the bottle lands first on Alaska, and then on Sharon.

They’ve been standing in Willam’s locked closet together in awkward silence for two minutes.

“Well,” Alaska says, when she can’t stand it anymore. She can just barely see Sharon’s face in the sliver of light coming through the bottom of the door. “This is awkward.”

Sharon shifts, and Alaska blushes as her hand accidentally brushes the side of Sharon’s thigh, snapping her hand back quickly. Sharon sighs, sounding annoyed. Guilt twists into Alaska’s stomach at the sound. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

There’s a pause. “Clearly,” Sharon says, and though her voice is light, there’s an edge of bitterness to it that twists into Alaska like a knife.

“I’m being serious,” she says, desperate to make Sharon at least understand that she’s not trying to force herself on her. “I didn’t ask Courtney to kick the bottle like that.”

“I know, Alaska,” Sharon says, and she only sounds more irritated. Alaska winces.

“I’ve been trying to keep my distance these past few days! They just won’t let it go, even though I–”

“I know,” Sharon snaps, and Alaska slams her jaw shut, jumping a little. “You made that perfectly clear on Thursday. I don’t need to be reminded.”

Alaska scrambles to appease her, guilt making her feel ill. “But I–”

She suddenly stops herself, her brain finally processing Sharon’s words and coming up with only a series of question marks. “What?”

“You’re not interested in me,” Sharon says, and she sounds upset. “I get that. But believe it or not, it hurts when someone tells you they can’t stand to think of you like that repeatedly. Especially when–” she cuts herself off, inhaling quickly. Alaska feels hope flutter through her like a butterfly, though she tries to crush it as soon as it comes. What if-?

“Especially when what?” Alaska probes gently, and she lightly touches Sharon’s arm, trying not to let her heart pound too hard as she does.

“Jesus Christ,” Sharon says, but she sounds defeated. “This is embarrassing.”

Alaska’s hope spikes. “Sharon?”

“Only because I can make sure we never see each other again,” Sharon says, voice threatening. “And only because if I’m going to tell you, it’s going to be while we’re playing a game I didn’t think I’d even hear about ever again.” She pauses, and Alaska waits, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

“I have a crush on you,” Sharon says eventually, her voice quiet and a little shaky. “But, only like, a tiny one - it isn’t a problem, I swear. I won’t make it awkward.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, in which Alaska stares at Sharon, numb with shock.

Then, happiness comes bursting in.

Alaska lunges forwards to kiss Sharon, unable to wait for any longer, pure, disbelieving joy flooding her body with adrenaline. Sharon’s lips are soft and warm, and she makes a muffled noise of surprise against Alaska’s mouth, freezing up underneath her hands.

She lightly pushes Alaska away, and Alaska goes willingly, panic shooting through her like lightning. “Sharon, I’m so sorry, that was unc–”

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Sharon says, her eyes wide. “You told me on the beach that the idea was ridiculous.”

Alaska stares at her for a moment, speechless. It’s like Sharon’s just shown her a sports replay where she’d fumbled the ball and then blamed it on the player who’d thrown it to her. “That’s because I was scared,” she says after a moment. “I thought you were disgusted.”

“Disgusted?” Sharon repeats, disbelieving laughter bubbling over her words. “Alaska, that’s possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Rude,” Alaska says, but she’s too elated to really feel it. She’d been so stupid - Sharon likes her. Sharon has a crush on her. It’s too good to be true.

“So the swimming suits really were working?” Sharon asks, and this time, it’s Alaska’s turn to laugh disbelievingly.

“Were you distracting me on purpose?” she asks, half shrieking, and Sharon grins that bright grin again.

“At first? No. But when I saw how you were looking at me at Raja’s party…”

“Evil!” Alaska cries. “I can’t believe I ever had a crush on someone so cruel! I’m–”

Sharon cuts her off with another kiss, and Alaska melts into it, sighing as Sharon’s fingers come up to thread through her hair, somehow managing to avoid its tangles. She slides her hands around Sharon’s waist, pulling her closer so that they’re pressed up against each other, relishing in the feeling of Sharon’s warmth all along her body.

She moans as Sharon deepens the kiss, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and the ocean. She hums, pleased, and Sharon pushes her forwards so that she’s flat against the narrow wall, sliding her hands down, down, down, over her breasts and her stomach and coming to rest on the waist of her jean shorts.

Alaska breaks off the kiss with a gasp, already squirming with pleasure. “Jesus Christ,” she breathes, and Sharon grins, giving her another quick peck on the lips.

“You want this?” she asks, her voice husky, and it goes straight to Alaska’s panties.

“Yes,” she says. “Plea–”

A loud knock on the closet door has them flying apart, and Alaska tries desperately to will the flush away from her cheeks as they hear the lock being undone.

The door swings open, and Alaska squints her eyes against the sudden brightness and Willam’s smirk.

“Seven minutes are up,” she says, looking them both up and down. “Would you two like to request more time?”

“No,” Alaska snaps, just as Sharon says, “Yes.” She flushes at the contradiction.

Willam eyes them smugly. Alaska wants to kill her. “I’ll let you two figure it out,” she says, taking a step back. “There’s chips downstairs for when you guys want to replenish your energy.”

“Fuck off, Willam,” Sharon says, and Willam smirks.

“Sure,” she says, and then she’s out of the room before Alaska can hit her like she wants to.

“I hate her,” Alaska says, and Sharon grabs her hand, giving her a sweet smile. Alaska’s heart melts.

“I love her,” Sharon says. “She’s the reason I can do this.”

Alaska rolls her eyes, although the smile she can’t help splitting across her face takes away its edge. “Fine,” she says. “But I still hate her. I’ve never been so stressed in my life.”

Sharon’s grin morphs into a sly smile, and she tugs Alaska back towards her, arranging her hand so that it rests on her waist. “I think I know a way to relieve some of that.”

Alaska raises an eyebrow, a thrill running through her as she steps closer. “Oh? Do tell.”

“I think I’d prefer to show you,” Sharon says, and then she pulls Alaska in for another searing kiss, and Alaska melts completely.